The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-07-02

Time changes all and all things temper Time Life's saddest hour were easier to bear Could 1t be lifted by some love sublime, Some love whose presence for the hour was
 fair,
 But every key from charity to crime Each heart must hear, so let us bravely bear "The common lOt," whatever that may be, Nor deem our lives from care or labor free. wish that love were what my friends would
 make it. Pure, perfect peerless as their hollest
 thought;
 I wish that nothing could exist to shake it, wish it could neither be sold nor bought Except for lOve-like Hades' lava lake 1t should have no bottom, had what sought. But "all the thousand ills to life allied" Make love Ut times, to say no worse, "snide." 'Twere well, perhaps, if love and life were And square in all things as block or brick, If what we chose at first we could enjoy all Through months and years without one
 squ,rm or kick
 wish that Death, hich cometh to destroy all, Would leave Loves lamp intact, both oil
 and wick;
 wish that l, whateer may believe ill., Could find final good in every evil I know that some dear, faithful friends of Are pleased to say that have never loved ; Because smile they swear loves thrill divine Within my brain and bosom never moved, Because for passions past do not pine, Because douLt - whatever have proved Because own know l do not know, They think of love never felt the glow. wish these folks whose censure IS so candid, So coolly kind so devilishly direct, Who have each thought within ther bosoms
 branded
 With self's sure seal which makes it all cor Iwish ali love could be as they have planned Divine, devoid of every d-d defect, wish it even for one year could be The bliss unbroken they describe to mo. Perhaps If Passion had no force or factor In any love that Life can touch or teach; If every person were indeed an actor
 In Times great tragedy. every speech Were not so redi, love might be com pacter, Truth then might be not "honored in the
 breach"
 But "the observance" and, but then who
 knows
 What could we care for such mass of prosei And why, I ask, must passion be profaned? Why must desire always 8 meet distrustY There is no force in earth or heaven contained Compares with this, which, if abused, is By this all Love and Life have been sustained It falls alike on the unjust and just. So why cannot at east some rays of reason Touch on this topic always so in season? 'Tis said that perfect love doth cast out fear It hopeth always and believes all things, It sees no sights save that one object dear For whom and from whom all its splendoi No time nor distance, letters, fates nor fears Can check the course of it's untiring wings At least, so say the ones who claim to know 1t But would ask what comes when we out
 grow lt2
 think that love may. come to spirits selfish, For what's all Life but an extended I? Mateship we find in lowest forms of shell fl sh This ego element don't die or lie. We all seek truth, and so we may as well fsl Within ourselves with every "how" ant We do contain the elements of all
 Within ourselves, though seemingly so small A drop of dew to ocean is allied,
 The glow worms lamps a symbol of the sun 'Tis said in cry stalls there exists a tide,
 Some epic poems pale beside pun; Sleep Is Deaths brother, so the ancients trie, To think and teach Rocks will like river When once they strike the quantity of heat That frees the forces which in fluids meet. The heart contains all times. all climes, al
 seasons,
 All hope. all hate, all colors and all hues; And this is one of several special reasons
 Why at least would not It's power abuse I own It also has il 8 petty treasons,
 But in the main value much its views It makes Life's load at times as light as leave, And holds whatever earth can have of Heaven What would we gain again by loosing sorrow Without the cloud the rainbow cannot be. Those who have trouble not a trouble bor The worst of trouble. as 1t seems to me- Our doubts and dreams about wished to Are like the stars night only lets us sec Icannot feel, although perhaps should, That all earths Evil won't at last be Good. But when folks talk to me about perfection, mean perfection we always paint 1t, wish to rise and offer my objection,
 And say that sorrow seems by no mean To be the dupe of doubt and deep dejection